Ponderings
by Topaz18
Summary: Wheatley snapped the book shut and placed Chell's diary back on the shelf. This story is mostly about some of Chell's contemplations throughout the game and in the future. Android!Wheatley and Mute!Chell.
1. Returning

**A/N**

**So, I wanted to get my emotion out, yet not write a story about myself. So, I decided to put down my feelings and twist it up to make it look like Chell's. For some reason, today I felt like I was in a dream... probably because I only slept for four hours last night...**

* * *

"Is this real? I feel like I am living a dream. I don't feel the sunshine on my skin. I don't feel the happiness of freedom. I don't feel the dirt underneath my feet. I have lost all sense.

Am I dreaming? Of course, I can't be. You can't be wondering if you are in a dream while you are in a dream. Never happens.

I don't feel like myself. I don't feel like doing anything worth doing. Sometimes things like this would suddenly happen during the day; I would just be testing and I would stare into the distance for a second, not thinking about anything, just staring into the oblivion, completely oblivious. Then I would snap out of it and just continue testing. But, I wasn't snapping out of this.

I just didn't feel the need to do anything, like my whole purpose of this life is over. Now, I have reached my goal, and I don't want it. I am finished. Gone. My life is now a clean slate, empty and ready to be filled again. So, I stood there, staring at the wheat, not even noticing it.

Who am I? Really. What am I now? Free? No, I don't feel freedom. You know, now that I think about it, I never actually wondered what life would be like after Aperture, I just escaped. I set my goals, and I full-filled them without a doubt.

I have no future.

I just did what my mind told me to do, but what am I now? What is my future? Staring at wheat? I have no motivation, no need to go on. I have no more life here. The surface was all a dream that seemed much better back then.

Goodbye, wheat fields and blue skies. You aren't my life. I turned back to the shed. This is my life. Aperture is my life. And with that, I stepped back inside that shack and waved my last goodbye to the surface world. Now, I go to my world.

My life.

My future.

Aperture."

* * *

Wheatley snapped the book shut. So that's why she came back! He carefully placed her diary on the shelf, where he saw her hide it. Wheatley knew he shouldn't be looking through her personal items, but he just couldn't help it. Every night before going to bed, Chell would write in it. Then, when she fell asleep, Wheatley would sneak in and read what she wrote. It was such an exciting adventure for him, reading her thoughts.

Every word he read, he inscribed in his memory data base, so he could read it whenever he wanted. Chell's words were beautiful, even if they were sometimes scary. Wheatley quietly snuck out of her room and down the hall. He then smiled as he remembered that there would be a whole new story tomorrow.

* * *

**A/N**

**Me: What would you do if Wheatley read your inside story? *shudders* That would be creepy... Sorry that it is so short! I hope I can continue this soon!**

**My Conscience: Yeah right, like that'll happen.**

**Me: Hey! Anyway the awesome author of the day is... Manchita1 and her story Newbodies! I just felt like putting up an awesome author... I think I'll shut up now...  
**


	2. The Virus

**A/N**

**Here is the next chapter! **

* * *

"No. Stop it!

Okay, lately I have been having lots of inner mental battles. Don't call me a softie, but I have been receding from my original toughness and not trusting anyone state. I'm not sure if it's from GLaDOS softening down to Caroline or from Wheatley being… well Wheatley.

He has been trying to apologize to me. A lot. Oh, some people might think that having an android stalking you talking non-stop and trying to get you to forgive them is cute, but no, it is not even close to cute. It is annoying and creepy and very stalker-ish. I mean, one time, I was just doing an everyday test when suddenly Wheatley crashes through the wall and hugs me. Hugs me. I think he deserved the portal gun to the face. And the black eye. And the round-house. But, still he hugged me. Let's say the next couple of weeks he spent avoiding me.

Wheatley is kind of hilarious in his attempts to get me to forgive him. Plus, it is really fun to punch him in the face every once in a while. Hey, mysterious person reading this, I'm not that violent! Okay, maybe I do have some brain damage, but still!

Back to the first statement, you know, when I write this I get really off track. I mean, I started off with talking about inner mental battles, and I haven't even gotten to that yet! I guess I might need to actually talk to someone and tell them about me… But I can't. There is no one to listen. You know, if you know someone who is a listener and always listens to you prattle on about nothing, then you need to do something for them. They want someone to listen to them as well. Like you, mysterious hopefully non-existent person reading this, you are listening to me. I do find it creepy that you are reading this…

If I ever find you I'll kill you!

I've already killed a homicidal A.I. twice; I could kill you in a second. Anyway, back to the topic of the top of the page; inner battles. I kept myself strong in testing through GLaDOS's insults, but all she does now is sulk in a corner! Not literally, but she never talks to me. So, I resorted to back talking all my useless thoughts that cross my mind.

Example; One time a little thought wandered its way into my brain;

You like Wheatley.

_You _like _Wheatley_.

I had screamed at the little betrayer thought, in my mind of course, for hours. Little things like that get people's hopes up. That is bad. Some hope is good of course, but not so much you are expecting the thing you hope for to come true. I was absolutely sure that I would die under GLaDOS's clutches, but it turned out that I actually lived! Amazing right? Because now I am happy that I lived!

That little betrayer thought could turn into a virus, and then soon I would actually believe it! The problem is…. More of these thoughts came up. Millions of them. I would imagine hugging Wheatley, smiling at him, and even, shudder, kissing him. Horrible thought. Absolutely horrible imagination.

It has gotten so bad, that I have started talking to myself. My intellectual insults were much worse than GLaDOS's. I just can't get some thoughts out of my head! Like a virus! I would just be walking down the hallway and, at the most unexpected of times, a Wheatley thought would come up. I would immediately resort to banging my head against the wall and intellectually screaming at myself. Then Wheatley would walk up and I would run away. I have been avoiding him. A lot. Every time I saw his face a virus coated image would pop up in my head. I would always immediately turn heel and run.

One time, I caught myself wishing that he would look at me and understand. I always wanted to be understood, from the inside out. For some reason, I was so marveled at the thought, that I actually didn't try to erase it from my thoughts. The thought grew, and grew, and grew. Until I started imagining him watching me, seeing me, understanding me. As soon as I found out that the virus had found a way through my brain, I tried to erase it. I locked myself in my Relaxation Chamber and pretended to be sick. Just to avoid seeing his face.

I do not like Wheatley. I hate him. I kept on trying to tell myself this, but sometimes it just didn't work. Now, it has gotten better. Now, I can actually write down what I thought, what my problem is. Now, I shall try to never read this again. Now, I can hopefully forget the virus because I wrote it down here. Now, I feel relieved. Thanks, Mysterious person reading this that I will murder in the future!"

* * *

Wheatley stared at the notebook in confusion. Well, it explains her avoidance of him over the past few months, but it still didn't explain her actual feelings. Did she like him? Wheatley shook his head and gently placed the notebook on its rightful place on the shelf.

He subconsiously crept out of the room, now so used to sneaking out that he didn't have to think about it anymore. Plus, his mind was on other things. She thought about him endlessly, but she got mad at herself for doing that. Did she actually imagine those things? At the end she said she hated me, does she really? She acts fairly nice around him, except for the fact she keeps running. She screams at herself in her head? Maybe he should help her, mentally.

Wheatley thought and thought and thought, and he would have kept on pondering, except for the fact he almost ran into a wall. Wheatley was actually quite intelligent on the inside, just around other people his mouth and body got all messed up and started saying and doing things that his inside self thought was stupid. Example, punching her into that pit. That was just a reflex! Plus, the mainframe confused him, badly. Wheatley cleared his thoughts, took a deep unessasary breath, and turned himself to sleep mode.

* * *

**A/N**

**Yay! I know, I have almost no information on how Wheatley is an android yet, but be patient! Thank you so much for reading some of the contents of my ever-imaginative brain, it really is great! Reading this story is almost just like listening, and some people really ought to be doing more listening in this world, thanks!  
**

**Please review, they make me update faster! Well, they are encouraging!  
**


	3. I Despise You

**A/N**

**You do know that almost half of these chapters are actually events that I twisted up in my head, right? Okay, I got the idea for this chapter from someone I hate, so I wrote a letter for her and twisted it up. I usually am really nice to people, but I was really mad at this person at the moment because she stole my ideas, songs, and much more, so I just wrote this hate letter to get the emotion out. Then, I figured it would go well with the rest of the plot. Long authors note ends here!  
**

* * *

"You know, I realized that if someone is reading this, I might as well just stick a letter in here. I wrote it a long time ago, yet I still agree to it in every aspect. So, mysterious person who is reading this who I may someday murder, if you are Morality you are more than welcome to read this letter to you. And if you aren't Morality, then you can still enjoy this letter, but be aware, I do not like people reading my thoughts.

_Dear Morality,_

_Morality, Morality, Morality. Oh how I despise you. Maybe I'm jealous, I don't care if you call me that, you monster. I just want to tell you my thoughts about you. _

_You steal almost everything from me; My ideas, my books, my songs, my words, my friends, my friend friends. You take them, show them off and make the world give you credit without mentioning me. Sure call me a selfish person, I know you are. And don't tell me you weren't thinking that. I know you were thinking that I was selfish, that I thought of everyone this way, but no, I only think of you this way. You little copycat that doesn't give credit for my ideas. My ideas. I hate it when people take my ideas and flounce then off. I would like to mention it, but no, no one believes it. _

_You aren't mean, that is on the outside. I can tell from the few expressions that get past your twirly hair face. You smile is obviously fake, and I can see straight through you. You want nothing but popularity and you turn blame on your friends._

_I don't even get why that sweet Curiosity is your friend. Seriously, she has a fantastic mind, yet you just never listen to her, do you? You just want to tell your own story. But guess what, I can see right through you. I can see past that girly cute show you put on and right into the bad thoughts. I can see those times that you let that little expression of your inside slip out, and you try to cover it up with a never mind it's okay, when really you are starting to get jealous of that person._

_Do you know why I am so nice to you? Because I believe that the worst opinion you have for a person, the nicer you be. But my real friends, I don't have to feign generosity._

_If I am with a person a lot, I get to know them. I can see right through them, at least most people. But you? Oh, you are by far the easiest to tell. Sometimes I might believe the little nice popular person act you put on, but then I remember who you are. That's what you do: you do something terribly mean to someone, and then you come back and try to talk it down with small acts of faked kindness. Most of the time it works, but for now, not for me. _

_Oh, once you read this, if you read this, I can already tell the little innocent look you will make. I can already see that girly gasp you will make. Oh, yes, do get frustrated with me, but don't worry, it's not my fault, it yours. _

_You know how I said that I try to be nicer to someone the more I hate them? Well, I might just be nice to you and let you know what I think of you. And also, if you don't understand, you should change. Be nicer, not in the fake way, but on the inside._

_I am just trying to soften the blow here, but you don't know how long I've been waiting to say this. Because I can see right through you, even if you don't think so. _

_ From,_

_ Chell_

As I reread this, I noticed that I didn't really mention the real reason why I hate Morality so much. Well, who really cares, I might write it down later."

* * *

Wheatley looked at the book with confusion, again. Why was it she hated Morality so much? Morality was sweet, kind, and sang really well. She practically sang all the time. What was the reason she hated Morality? She said there was a real reason, but what was it? Wheatley shook his head; maybe he would find the answer tomorrow night.

He stood the leather-bound book on its end and was about to walk off when it fell from the shelf. It hit the ground with a loud thud and he glanced at Chell, wondering if she heard it. He saw her eyelids flutter and he ran out of the room, shocked. Wheatley swerved avoiding falling off of catwalks as he raced to his room.

Only when he almost ran into the wall again did he notice that he forgot something very important and much more prominent than avoiding running into a wall; he forgot to put the book back on the shelf.

* * *

**A/N**

**So, what do you think? Oh, by the way I am very sorry that I haven't updated in a while! I have all these different chapters for this story, yet I have no idea how to rearrange them and only a few of them are actually finished!  
**

**The person of the day is... kt2209 and their story A Tribute To Chelley. Read that if you are looking for a good Chelley pairing, seriously, it is in the title.  
**

**I will try to update as soon as possible! But anyway, (I am going to write the following in all caps to get your attention)PLEASE REVIEW!  
**


	4. A Different Perspective

Wheatley ran into his room and slammed the door behind him, breathing heavily. Did she see him? He hoped not. He sat on his bed, contemplating for a moment, when he had an idea. He jumped up and grabbed a notebook that was stuffed under the farthest corner of a drawer. Pulling out a pencil, he started writing.

* * *

I raised up my hand and pressed it against the glass. My eyes were filled with grief as I stared into her fading eyes. For once, I felt tears in my eyes. For once, I felt emotion. For once, I felt sad. A deep pang of sorrow erupted from my heart. I can't describe it. I can't describe this feeling of regret, of sorrow, of pain. No words could match this. Of all the things I have read and written, no words could match this. The pure agony and… despair.

She still stared into my eyes, as if they were the last thing she could cling onto. Our eyes were locked, and everything seemed understood. I hoped with all my heart that she could see that I was sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't want to desert her. Never.

You know how sometimes you have something you regret and wish that you could go back in time and fix it? I feel that now, except in better terms. I wish I could write. I wish I could describe this horrifying feeling that has wiggled its way into my life, absolutely disrupting it. My words, I can never seem to get them right. I can't describe emotion; I can't use enough words to depict a perfect picture of the pain that throbs in every section of my heart, of the sadness that drenches my heart in an ever-rising water, of the … something. She writes much better stories.

And now, I watch from behind a wall of glass, the only thing separating me from running to her. Now that I think about it, all our lives we have been separated by a glass wall. A stupid fragile wall of glass that we both saw, but ignored. If it bugged the other, we wouldn't know. We just went on with life, watching as the glass wall thickened.

I really wish I would've broken it. It was just a fragile wall of glass; I bet if I had pestered it with a question, it would've cracked, maybe even broken. But no, we ignored it. The wall was a simple way of life. Occasionally we would greet each other, have a friendly two second conversation, but I never really noticed her until now. Sure we lived next door, just down the hall, but each of us just went on with life, focused on work. We just acknowledged each other as a neighbor who we would occasionally help out.

That figurative glass stayed put, and each day, got a little blurrier. Each day, we accepted each other more as a common way of life. Until something happened. I don't know what it was, but something made her notice me. Something got her attention. One day, she walked up to the wall of glass, just to wave. I had smiled, and something deep inside me had swelled. I don't know what it was, but I felt slightly gleeful. Just a tremor. She had walked away and went back to her work. Life went on as it was, but occasionally I would see her walk up to the figurative glass wall and speak. Just a side comment, but it was… I don't know. I'm not good at this writing thing.

My hand on the wall curled into a fist as I struggled to keep my emotional wall from exploding. I told myself not to pound against the real wall of glass, except I wouldn't listen. My hand was almost at the glass, when she looked at me. Stop, her gaze said, don't. Just leave me. I tilted my head to the side and lowered my fist, thinking more about the past.

Sometimes I would step through the glass wall, not really breaking it, but creeping through it when she wasn't watching. When I first stepped through it, I remember I had examined the hallways, but I had stopped at one shelf. Unlike the others, it had a single book on it, wrapped in leather. I had curiously unwrapped it to find a bunch of scrabbling, barely legible. The scrabbles formed words, and I took great interest in them. They formed stories far more interesting and beautiful than any other book I have read. After reading a couple of pages, I noticed something. The author and the main character were the same. This was a diary. Chell's diary.

I had reread the words I already read with new eyes, now seeing the relation. I not only saw relation, I saw other people, too. Morality, GLaDOS, Rick, and even me. She wrote about me. Not as a side- comment, but as the plot. The whole story-line, her whole life, was written around me. The story wasn't about her, but her feelings toward me. It was her feelings toward me through every point and event in her life. It was about that time with Morality, the time GLaDOS tried to kill me, it was about everything. And I had ignored her! I had stood behind the glass wall and simply watched from the corner of my eye, never caring, never seeing. I saw her as a mere insect, yet she saw me as a-a a part of her life.

Why couldn't I tell her now? Why couldn't I tell her I read her leather-bound book? Why couldn't I tell her that I contemplated on every single word she wrote, holding onto it, and trying to fix it? A new sadness appeared in my eyes. A sadness of regret. I lifted up my hand again, ready to strike the glass that had separated me from her my whole life. Then, I stopped.

What would she think? I was just a coward. I was just a simple-minded moron. She believed too much of me. I sighed and held my forehead in my hand. She saw my hesitation and turned her gaze toward the ceiling, now in a dream-like state. What was she thinking of? I couldn't tell. I wouldn't tell. I couldn't read her leather-bound book tonight; she wouldn't be able to write in it. She twitched on the steel table, not even budging her restraints.

I wish she would look into my eyes on last time, just so I could tell I was sorry. I shouldn't have read that book, if I hadn't, I would've been able to see her sink to horror, I would've been with Morality, I would've had a normal rest of my Artificial Life. I wouldn't have cared for her. But no, seeing her smile and knowing the reason behind it was the most wonderful thing that I could've ever seen, even better than the whole world smiling. Now, that I think of smiles and laughs, I never got to hear her laugh. I never got to hear her words. Well, her true words; the ones she wrote in her diary. She never spoke her real thoughts. At least not to me.

My hand traveled to my cheek as I forced myself to look up. She still stared at the ceiling, eyes closed, thinking about something. Something that I would never know.

No, she can't end like this. She can't die like this.

She can't die thinking that I think of her as a mere shadow, like before.

She can't die thinking that I hate her.

She can't die thinking I deserted her.

No, she just can't die. I won't let her die.

With those thoughts in my head, I mustered up courage to break through the wall. I don't remember exactly what happened next; all I remember was her eyes not opening as she fell into a comatose state as I rushed as far away as possible from that place that SHE said was for experimental testing. I barely remember barging into the Medical Unit, carrying her unconscious body. Those robots took her from me and stuffed her into some medical thing, plugging tubes and wires all up her arms.

They told me to leave, but I wouldn't. I stared at her unmoving shape for hours, until she started waking up. I saw her eyelids flutter, I saw her breath quicken, but I didn't see her wake up. She couldn't know I'd saved her life; she'd look up to me. She'd hope more for me, and she herself said she didn't like that. I raced out of the room and alerted the androids of her awakening. Before I could see them respond, I ran across the facility and ducked into my room.

As I said before, I am not a good writer, but I would like to let you know how scared I was. I usually turn away from my horrid emotions and try to be as optimistic as possible, revolting against the pessimism, but I couldn't bare it. I had sat at my bed for hours, and then finally pulled out this. This notebook that I had stored my most favorite of memories in. I wouldn't call it a diary, like Chell's, but more of a bunch of words smashed together with a couple of punctuation marks here and there.

I wonder if she saw me save her life, and if she did, how did she feel about it? I really wish that she could write in her leather-bound diary, I want to know her. I haven't taken much interest in most people, but I still wonder how her mind works. Sure, I have her diary, but what is she not writing in that little diary of hers? I will never know. I get why she writes now, it really dumps out all of your emotions, I feel a lot better, like that devastating moment never happened.

Just breathe, and believe.

* * *

He sighed and turned to look at the door, pencil still in hand and thoughts still jumbled. Oh how he wished he could look into her mind. Well, maybe, just maybe, he would get to see what she had written tonight. And maybe, just maybe, he would show her his journal.

* * *

**A/N**

**Whoa, is this author's note actually after the story? Yes, it is! Okay, I am not really sure where I got this idea, but I wanted to let you all read something from a different perspective, not just Chell. This story has no plot line, so the events are all mixed around, but you can hopefully tell which part of the story it is in!  
**

**Now, the person of the day is... xXRose-the-MagicatXx and their story PORTaL Onestop Oneshot's! She writes really fabulous poems!  
**

**Okay I have to say here that you need to go and check out The Fanfiction Awards forum. It has really good potential and needs more people! Go check it out...  
**

**And to finish up this really long, yet important author's note I say... PLEASE REVIEW!  
**


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